My pride is ugly and sneaky. It shows up in “good” places, disguised with good intentions and it leaks. It causes me to prove myself. I’m always trying to prove myself. I need for people to take me seriously. When my pride is unchecked, it grows and stretches and pushes and suffocates all of the good stuff out of me until pretty soon, my self-esteem shrivels up and the next thing I know, I’m panicking because I just can’t seem to be good enough and I’m going unnoticed by the world.

In these moments, I feel the need to bury any struggle The World doesn’t want to hear – anything that doesn’t contribute to their headlines, their injustices. Soon, the little things pile on and on and on like playdough until soon I have a mishmash of colors twisted together in a lopsided ball that isn’t round enough to balance properly. It’s exhausting.

This is why every single time I remember that God wants to hear me, I fall into His arms with relief. He wants me to come to Him and sit at His feet while asking Him for even my smallest desires. That baffles me. The World doesn’t want to know the petty little things. The World only wants to hear about my grandiose dreams and skills. The World wants me to be an inspirational idol at best or a mauder for their plights at worst. The World wants me to be something more or fail harder.

If it isn’t a story for worthy of a giant check from Ellen or a black and white horror photo for the cover of Times, it isn’t worthy.

The Good News is,

God designed me. He doesn’t want me or expect me to be anything more or anything less. The little things that burden my heart are not little in His eyes. Those struggles The World has deemed unworthy of tears? God will carry them for me. Worthy looks a whole lot better when viewed with God’s mercy.

I can’t find my Piolet G2 .038 pen right now so I’m going to journal here thanks for the alternative form of processing steve jobs and probably bill gates and idk was warren buffet an internet guy or did he just invest in stocks to get rich? who invented the tools i’m currently using to do this? shout out to you.

Most of Jesus’ life isn’t in the Bible. I’m ashamed at how much that fact astounds me. Of course His ministry was more than we read. Of course. Jesus learned how to be a carpenter. Could you imagine the interactions between Him and the people who commissioned His work? Don’t you think His words fell upon them like sweet honey? He probably learned from Joseph with so much grace and obedience. God in the flesh humbling himself to learn a human trade when He never needed to learn. Jesus saw the good in submitting to His earthly parents. Of course His ministry began much earlier than we see in the Bible.

In fact, Jesus didn’t commit His greatest act until He was thirty-three. Thirty years of His life are unaccounted for in the Word. We don’t read about His everyday actions. But knowing our Jesus, I bet each of His days were extraordinary.

I’ll be thirty-three in ten years. What am I doing with all of my in-between days as I inch closer to my dreams, to where I want to be? The in-between days sculpted Jesus into who He needed to become in order to do what He was destined to do. Are my in-between days sculpting me so I can become the person I can become because of His love?

Sometimes, my body and mind get slower. It feels a little like I’m suffocating slowly. When I can breath properly, I drink up the Living Water by the gulps. I lavish in it and feel revived. But it’s hard to drink water when you can’t breath properly.

Elijah was afraid. He ran. I think Elijah was depressed too. He slept a lot under a tree. He asked God to take away his life. Elijah, a great prophet and man of God didn’t want to live anymore, so God let him sleep. He only awoke Elijah so he could eat and drink – God took care of Elijah’s physical needs so he could have time to recoup emotionally. Then, he had Elijah wake, eat and drink and begin a forty day journey. Elijah went forty days and nights sustained by nothing but the food the Lord had provided prior to the journey.

When air is scarce and I begin to beg for clouds to block out the taunting sunlight, my bed with all of its softness is my tree. Its there that I consume shallow media so I don’t have to think, because thinking can lead to panic. The blankets are warm and sleep is all around me.

It was from my bed that I once asked God if I was really His daughter because I didn’t feel like it anymore.

Right now, the air is plentiful and I’m swimming in Life, so I’m searching for crumbs to create a stockpile. Like Elijah, I want to be sustained when I’m afraid. I know God will care for me in the same way, but I need to store up His bread so I’m prepared.

I think about my mom a lot. Mostly, I think about who she was when she was my age. When my mom was twenty-two, she had a two year old child and a fiance. When my mom was eighteen, she left school and moved to California. I think she lived in Arizona for a bit too. I’m not sure. She told me that Top Gun was shot just down the street from where she lived and that the children on her block always wanted to hear about snow. I think she had a few different jobs – a clothing store, a grocery store and a telemarketer. Her hair was big and wild and she dressed in over sized clothing that somehow fit perfectly on her small frame – at least that’s what the pictures show. I think she lived with my uncle in California while he was in the military. Maybe her and her cousin shared a home. I don’t really know. Every time she tells the story, it’s a little different. I imagine her driving a red convertable across the country. The car suits her in my mind. I’m not sure she ever mentioned what kind of car she had. I think the details are hazy partially because of time but partially because some details are for her memory only. Eventually she made her way back to Iowa. She had a little boy that needed to wear casts on his feet because when he walked, his feet turned inward. The casts were off when he carried the rings down the aisle. Her wedding dress had sleeves as puffy as her hair.

My mom doesn’t know how to use a smartphone. Or the internet unless you give her step-by-step instructions. One time, she forgot to turn off the car before going into Wal-Mart. She wears my hand-me-downs and items from the sale racks because instead of buying her own clothes, she spends her money on us. She takes care of the dying and stays in every night, reading devotionals. Once in awhile, my dad will take her on a weekend trip. She hates crowds and big events.

She confuses and astounds me every single day. I call her more often than I need too, sometimes I have nothing to say at all, but I’m hoping I’ll catch a glimpse of her past selves. One of my favorite poems says that with every birthday, we just add a new layer. We never stop being a certain age, that age just gets a little more buried. Like, I’m twenty-two, but when I can’t sleep it feels a lot like when I was five and needed the comfort of my parent’s bedroom floor. I really want to see my mom at twenty-two. I think we are both a little scared.

I have tonsillitis. It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m laying on my couch at 7 p.m. in a weird, time warp daze because of the copious amounts of naps I’ve taken and I’m angry. New Year’s Eve is my favorite. I love celebrating the end of the year, regardless of how good or awful it was. If it was good, I get to feel a full heart of wonderful memories. If it was bad, I have hope for the future.

So, since I’m not out and about tossing back a sour beer or two, I thought I would write for enjoyment and see if I can process through any life lessons I may have picked up through 2k16.

First, I learned how to ask for help and how to receive help – from the right people. When you’re a young adult, a lot of older people will take it upon themselves to influence your life. They will think they are doing you a favor by telling you how you should go about job searching and networking, how to invest your money, advice on your living situation and even how to handle your relationships. These people think that because they are older than you, that they have the right to force these opinions onto you. Here’s the thing, you’re young. You’re going to assume all of these people have the right answers and that every word they say is for your best interest. Take a step back. Before taking advice from someone simply because they are older and have more experience, consider if they know your current situation well, if they know your personality, and how one choice you make will influence the other areas in your life.

It is important to understand that some people genuinely care about you while others simply care about having their opinions heard. The ones who care will follow up with you. They will help you figure out your next steps and will take the time to understand the bigger picture of your situation, not just the fragment that is under scrutiny. Ask these people for help when you need it and then, implement their advice. Do not waste their time by expecting them to do all the work. Show them their time and effort is being put to use by advancing yourself.

Being brave does not happen overnight. In the real world, a brave action can take months of build up. It is not always a quick decision, acted upon under extreme circumstances. I lived with depression and anxiety for almost a year before realizing how huge of an impact it was having on my life. Then, it took me another six months to work up the courage to seek help. It took me me six months to be brave. Seeking out help to become healthy again was the bravest thing I have ever done and the slow process getting there does not cancel out my bravery.

Whatever it is you are working on, lean in to the process. Quickness does not equal bravery. Slowness does not equal bravery. Overcoming the obstacles holding you back from becoming a better person, no matter how long it takes you, is what makes you brave.

We do not bloom year-round. The seasons were created for a purpose. Trees loose their leaves, plants lose their flowers and the world looks bleak. So do we. Savor the season. Your season may not match up with the rest of the world’s, but you will find yourself in a place that is lacking fruit. You’ll feel dry and weak. You’ll wonder what you’re doing wrong. Why can’t you be in a good mood anymore? Why can’t you feel God’s presence right now? Why is everything suddenly more difficult than it was a month ago, a year ago? Beating yourself up during this time is not useful. Instead, utilize the season to your advantage. Personally, in my season of drought, I surround myself with candles because I love their smell, I spoil myself with good books and I allow myself to be introverted for as long as I need. CAUTION: do not allow yourself to wallow in your drought. Once you’re revived and feel as though you can take on the world, get back out there. Again, it may be a quick or slow process, but do not allow the season to turn into a place for sin to settle in. Know you’ll bloom again, put yourself in the right environment to bloom after your season of barrenness.

**If you’re new to my writing, here is a warning: I do not edit. I understand some people may be bothered by my lack of correct grammar or my inability to pick up a thesaurus, but I don’t care. I love to write. I hate editing. I know it sounds better after editing which is why I do it for important stuff, but this blog is for my enjoyment and I’m cutting out all the things that I don’t wanna do because it’s mine, so there.

Last week, I made my boss make a phone call for me because professional phone calls to people I don’t know really make me nervous. I was sweating and got the little black spots in my sight. So he came into my office and put it on speaker phone and did all the talking. He didn’t fire me. He should have because I’m pathetic. Email only, please. I realize this is a medical issue and I should seek help because IT IS JUST A PHONE. BUT I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE THE LANDLINE I DON’T THINK. This story is irrelevant to the rest of the post, but I just got vulnerable with you so now I feel like you, reader, are a friend. WELCOME.

As a young woman of twenty-two years old, I have learned many life lessons including but not limited to:

straightening your hair every day for four years will ruin your curl pattern

microwaves cannot cook everything properly

if a boy is not okay with you saying “no” then he isn’t worth it

don’t get into cars with anyone who has been drinking

walking on train tracks is a crime

if someone tells you a hard truth and sits with you and helps you through processing it, they care about what happens to you

Shonda Rhimes will always kill your favorite characters.

admit to not knowing something instead of trying to muddle your way through it

The most shocking lesson is also the one I have to keep relearning. And it hurts to relearn:

I am my own person.

It sucks.
The older I get, the harder this lesson is to ingest. I think I am allergic to it. I try super hard to avoid that truth. I really don’t want to have all of the control of my decisions. It is a lot of pressure. If I’ve been doing anything this year, it has been resisting my own authority over my life, and it has caused tension and frustration in many of my relationships.

For example, I have tried endlessly to push my life back on to my parents. I have asked them to tell me what to do, where to go, how to do it and when they give me answers I don’t like or are not encouraging in the way I would hope, I get mad. Yes, I AM AWARE OF HOW IMMATURE THAT IS. I’ve started to develop healthier boundaries, no worries. Twenty-two is weird, nobody told me I would need to make boundaries between me and my parents i thought that would come naturally with age like it would just kick in

I’ve been ashamed of the process for awhile because I have not felt like I had the room to be both/and. I did not think it was healthy of me to be a professional adult in the working world, fully capable of doing my job and discipline others if I was also learning how to become my own person. But I can do and be both. I can teach others while also discovering how to better my own methods of discipleship, communication and leadership. In my weak spots, I still think I need to hurry up to become the final product of who God designed me to be and who I want to become. That’s false though. Wouldn’t that take away from the His glory? Isn’t He most proven through our faith journey and not our destination?

God’s authority is over all things, including myself, but I need to own up to my obedience and my choices under His jurisdiction. So here I am. Millennial Life Crisis. Learning how to become my own. That’s what I hope this new writing experience will be – a way to document the messy process of owning up to my own person.